


Short of Breath

by September_Wolf



Series: Street is the Youngest [7]
Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017), S.W.A.T. - All Media Types
Genre: Asthma, Asthma Attacks, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt street, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Family, Protective Team, Street Angst, Street Whump, breathing problems, protective deacon, scared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 20:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17331770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/September_Wolf/pseuds/September_Wolf
Summary: The team gets caught in an explosion at a warehouse. With all the dust and debris, Street has an unexpected asthma attack. How will the team react?





	Short of Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! It feels good to be back posting stories again. As always, I'm a sucker for the brotherly moments and Street whump, which is what you should expect in this story. Happy reading, enjoy! (:
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor the tv show SWAT.

“Street! You taking a siesta back there?” Luca barked from his position in the driver’s seat. Deacon chuckled from where he sat behind him.

 The man in question opened a single eye, “Maybe?” He joked, even though he’d been fully awake.

 “Well, nap time is over! It’s wake-up time, Junior!”

 Street huffed and sat up straighter, popping his neck. “Yes, Sir!” He answered Luca, sharing an exasperated look with Chris. “Geez, it’s like being in the army,” he muttered.

 “Dang right, soldier,” Tan laugher, smacking him on the front of his vest.

 “Haha, you guys are so funny.” Street rolled his eyes, letting a small amused grin grace his face.

 Hondo shook his head at them as the S.W.A.T. vehicle came to a stop at their destination. “All right be extra cautious today. These guys are bomb experts, so they are bound to have traps set. Mumford’s team is here to give us extra hands because it’s important not to let these six suspects escape. Let’s go!”

 “Fill the gaps!”

 “Stay liquid!” They all shouted.

 In unison, the team exited the vans and separated into small groups of two and three. Chris took off towards high ground while Hondo split off with Luca, leaving Deacon, Tan, and Street to make their way towards the sole rear entrance of the warehouse.

 Mumford and his team went to cover the side entrances. Hopefully, with people watching every door that the suspects couldn’t slip past them.

 They were looking for six men. All young. Armed with heavy explosives and weapons, hiding somewhere within the warehouse that is filled with excess construction equipment. Metal beams. Plywood. Tools. Crates of metal pieces. Machinery. It was like searching for a needle in a stack of needles.

 On Hondo’s count Deacon breached the door, Tan taking point with Street and Deacon following sequentially.

 Everything was silent. Nothing moved. Not even a feather would’ve moved with how dead the atmosphere was in the warehouse. It was unsettling. Usually, there was shouting, gunfire, footsteps as the suspects ran away, but hearing nothing was creepy. It told them that either the suspects knew they were there, or they didn’t care because they were prepared to take them.

 Slowly, they crept down the length of the wall, checking each aisle for their suspects.

 They made it down ten aisles until something caught their attention. It was a small crate sitting in the middle of one of the aisles.

 Deacon held up a fist, signaling for Tan and Street to halt any movement and advances. “Hondo, we have an abandoned near the back-right corner of the building. Could contain explosives.”

  _“Yeah, I just stumbled upon their little workshop on the left side of the warehouse. It’s all the goods to make a powerful explosive.”_ Mumford commented.

  _“This is a job for the bomb squad now. Pull out. Get clear of the building. We don’t know if any are set to go off.”_ Hondo ordered.

 “Let’s go,” Deacon spun around and started heading back the way they came.

 Street made to follow, but a figure at the end of the aisle caught his attention. “Hands up!” He yelled, grabbing his weapon and pointing it at the man, who without hesitation lit a spark and ignited another large crate that had C4 attaches to it.

 Deacon and Tan paused at Street’s yell and made to go back towards him, but suddenly Street started running towards them. “Run! Go! Go! Go! We don’t have much time!”

 His shoes smacked the concerts floor as he bolted towards his teammates, who were already at the exit. “One of the suspects has lit a bomb! It’s huge! Get out now!” He yelled into his intercom as he flew past the aisles.

  _“All clear here!”_ Hondo answered, sounding out of breath.

  _“Same here,”_ Mumford echoed.

  _“We also just got clear_!” Rocker panted onto his earpiece.

  _“Deacon? You all clear?”_ Hondo asked.

  _“Almos— “_

 Street flew around the doorway and bolted across the pavement just as the bomb was going off. The wall of the building exploded outward in a loud rush of air and fire.

 The three of them were thrown several feet in the air before dropping them down onto the pavement. Pieces of metal and wood fell down around them. The air turned cloudy with dust and debris, making it difficult to see anything or breathe properly.

  _“—ON! DEAC—DEACON! Are you guys all right? Report! TAN! STREET! Are you guys clear?”_

 Hondo’s panicked voice cut through the incessant ringing in Street’s ears. He felt something wet trickle down the side of his face, meaning that he must have knocked his head during the explosion.

 He blinked and glanced around, but he couldn’t see anything because of the dust and smoke. Deacon and Tan could be a couple feet away, and he wouldn’t know it.

 Street heard Deacon cough over the intercom, “ _I’m…okay. Banged up—but okay. Tan? Street?”_

_“I’m not dead, so that’s…something,”_ Tan remarked, choking on the dust as well. _“I can barely see anything because of all the crap in the air.”_

_“Street? Kid?!”_ Luca hollered.

 Street coughs and was about to respond, but once he started coughing, he couldn’t stop. His chest suddenly tightened up, leaving him gasping for clean air. All the debris from the explosion was upsetting his lungs.

 He’s only ever had asthma attacks when he was a kid around five years old. Usually, the attacks stirred on by passing smokers or exhaust from old vehicles, but they never lasted long. He would have some constriction in his chest, so the doctor gave him an inhaler that he never had to use. So why was he having spontaneous recovery _now_? Just his luck.

 “Street!” Deacon yelled. His voice echoing twice. Once in Street’s earpiece and once from somewhere to his left.

 Street continued to cough and wheeze. He clutched the front of his vest, wanting the constricting article of clothing off. Pain blossomed throughout his chest like fire.

 Without warning, hands wrapped around Street’s upper arms and hauled him upright. The person dragged him out of the cloud of dust until he could see the blue sky overhead.

 His vision was blurry with tears, but at least he could see _something_. The person—he now realized was Deacon—propped him up against a nearby tree. The vertical position helped a little bit, but soon Street doubled over again, trying and failing to draw in a full breath. Deacon and Tan crouched in front of him.

 “Street? Kid? What’s wrong?!” Deacon asked frantically. The only visible wound he could see was a cut on the kid’s head, but something else was obviously wrong elsewhere. “Street! Talk to me!”

 Street tugged at his vest as another cough ripples through his body. “Can’t b—the. Asth—ma,” He gasped between choking on lack of oxygen. Street’s never been this scared before. Usually, someone or something was behind his fear, but now he felt helpless because it was literally out of his hands. Out of his control.

 “Hondo!” Tan shouted into his earpiece, “Street can’t breathe! He said something about having asthma. Do you have an inhaler or respirator in the emergency kit?” Lines of concern painted across his forehead, making him look ages older.

 Deacon fumbled for Street’s vest and removed it so that the kid would have more room to breathe.

 “There’s one in the truck! I’ll get it.” His I answered. “You need to slow his breathing down. He’s probably panicking, so calm him down.”

 Street’s eyes were scrunched shut and a continuous stream of tears flowed down his face. He looked like a frightened kid.

  _Deacon had kids of his own. He could do this._

 “Street?” Deacon started. “Hey, kiddo. You need to calm down. Hondo’s going to get you an inhaler, but you need to slow down your breathing until he gets here.” Deacon soothed, placing a hand on Street’s upper arm to refocus his attention.

 Street forced his blue eyes open and blinked to the clear the tears from his eyes. Sharp and painful gasps tore from his lungs. His hands were clenched tightly on his thighs.

 Deacon pried Street’s hands off his leg and placed it on his heart, “Feel my heartbeat. Match your breathing to mine. Follow it. Come on. In and out. Slowly.”

 Tan rubbed soothing circles on Street’s ankle. Not wanting to make the kid anymore claustrophobic. “You’re okay. Hondo’s coming.”

 Street nodded, still wheezing. _He felt like he was dying. He couldn’t take in a full breath. He was slowly suffocating._ “Ca—n’t.” His words were barely audible, but the two caught them right away.

  _Make it stop. Please._

 His shallow breathing increased with the new rush of panic. He whimpered in fear, grasping Deacon’s hand in his own. As much as he would deny it later, the elder man’s presence was really comforting.

 “Shh…I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.

Just a few more seconds.” Deacon tried to calm down his younger teammate, wrapping his other hand to rest on the back of Street’s neck to ground the kid in reality. “Come on, J. Breathe slowly.”

 Boots slapped the pavement and grew louder. Street swayed suddenly lightheaded due to lack of oxygen. Deacon’s voice faded and became muffled. It was like he was underwater.

 “Stre—you with—can y—hear us?” Street’s hands lost their grip as he fully collapsed against the tree behind him. The world smeared into a confusing ray of colors. He was about two seconds away from losing consciousness when he felt the smooth plastic mouthpiece of an inhaler slip between his lips.

 A cool brush of air from the inhaler was sprayed into his mouth and into his lungs. On instinct, he held in the medicine. Already he could feel the tightness begin to loosen in his chest. He held in the medicine for as long as he could the exhaled. The second puff of the inhaler came a few seconds later. The tightness almost completely unfolded.

 Street’s eyes fluttered open as he lifted his hands shakily to hold onto the inhaler. He drew in on last puff of the inhaler before pulling in a large breath of oxygen.

 He sighed on relief, fear dissipating. He finally glanced around and to his surprise found his entire team surrounding him with varying lolls of concern plastered on their faces. Deacon and Hondo were crouched directly in front of him while Tan, Luca, and Chris sat back a little.

 “Kid? You okay?”

 Street blinked, taking a second longer than usual to comprehend the question. He met Hondo’s eyes and nodded. “Yeah,” He rasped, “better.” He rubbed his chest to soothe his achy muscles.

 His team visibly relaxed. Tension leaving their frames.

 “Geez, kiddo! You had us worried, especially since half of us were on the opposite side of the freaking building.” Luca wiped his hands down his face.

 “It also would’ve helped to know that you had freaking _asthma_ ,” Tan exclaimed, crossing his arms across his chest. Street could tell he was pissed at him.

 Street fidgeted underneath the heat of his teammates’ stares. “I didn’t know _either_ , so you’re not alone.” At his team’s confused looks, he explained. “I had an asthma attack when I was a kid, like _super_ young. I haven’t had an asthma attack in twenty years. Since then, I’ve walked through dust, smoke—you name it—and each time, I was fine. I _seriously_ thought it was gone.”

 “Obviously, it was waiting for the right time to present itself again,” Chris muttered.

 “Wait, If Street told me when he joined that he had asthma as a kid, so I took the liberty of packing an emergency inhaler in the van in case he happened to need it,” Hondo added. He was always prepared that what made him a great leader, so it didn’t surprise them that he took such extensive measures to keep his teammates safe.

 “Thanks,” Street rasped, coughing to clear his throat.

 His team tensed up at his coughing but realized as soon as they realized he wasn’t going to have another asthma attack.

 “Why didn’t you tell us?” Chris asked, “What if Hondo hadn’t been here? You’d be dead or at least worse off than now.” He glared at him, but he knew she was frustrated because he could've been hurt. Nevertheless, the words cut.

 Street’s gaze fell to the ground. “I should’ve told you it’s, and I’m sorry. I honestly thought it was gone forever, so I didn’t think it mattered.”

 "Well, _obviously_ it does matter. I understand why you did it, kiddo…” Luca patted Street’s ankle and stood up. “…but _just_ for future reference, don’t do it again.” He gave Street a pointed look before turning to the rest of the team. “I have a confession to make…I’m slightly allergic to shellfish.” Luca sighed dramatically.

 “Just _slightly_?” Tan shook his head.

 The team laughed at Luca’s devastated expression while Street glanced around at his teammates in confusion. Did I miss something?”

 Chris nodded, “One time, we went out to eat, and Luca decided to order shrimp because the lady in the table next to us got the shrimp basket. He said he _loved_ the smell of it and had to try it— “

 “Yeah, so…” Luca interjected, taking over the rest of the story. “…I started eating and _man_ was it _delicious_ food. Then the team starts yelling that I’m swelling up like a hot air balloon, and they drive me to the hospital.”

 “And _of course,_ he had to take the shrimp with him and eat _more of it_ on the way there!” Tan exclaimed chuckling at his teammate’s ridiculous behavior.

 “Hey! It was _stellar_ food. It’s my favorite meal.” Luca argued, appearing offended at how they were talking about the shrimp,

 “Your _last_ meal,” Deacon muttered, causing Street to laugh.

 Luca cast Street a betrayed look, “Hey, shut up. At least I’m not allergic to dust bunnies.” He crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive stance.

 Street rolled his eyes as the team chuckled. It was then he noticed that Mumford’s team wasn’t around. Where are they?

 His inquiry must have appeared on his face because Hondo quickly explained. “I sent them to wave in the response units and get as much out of the non-damaged side of the warehouse as possible.”

 Street nodded slowly, “Thanks.”

 The sirens of the response units pierced the air as they raced towards the bringing building. Street winced at the shrill noise.

 “I want you to get checked over at the hospital and tested to see if you have chronic asthma or just a flare up,” Hondo ordered, rising to his feet. “Also, Deacon and Tan, I want you both to be checked over since you went down in the explosion with Street.”

 “Why did they just explode one side? Wouldn’t they want to take down the whole building because of evidence?”

 The team glanced down at Street, surprised at his random question.

 “Maybe they were planning to take the whole building down, and we tipped the one guy off. He panicked and set off his bomb earlier…?” Deacon theorized.

 "Or maybe the other bombs malfunctioned and didn’t get off like planned?” Luca added.

 “We’ll know more once the bomb squad arrives and checks over the bombs.

"Or what’s left of them.” Hondo crosses his arms and stepped back.

 Just then, two EMT technicians came jogging over with their equipment in hand. “We were told to come this way. That some of you were injured. Is that correct?”

 “Yes, Street,” Hondo pointed at the kid, “hit his head during the explosion and had an asthma attack. Tan, over there, has a mild concussion and some bruised ribs. And Deacon, here, has some cuts from the flying debris.”

 The EMT’s split up, one attending Street, and the other checking Tan over. In a few minutes, Tan’s ribs were wrapped up and Deacon’s cuts were cleaned and bandages by the same EMT, but Street was still being tended to.

 “Do you feel any tightness in your chest?”

 “No.”

 “Does it hurt to breathe?”

 

“No, I feel fine now. All I need is some painkillers for my head, and I’m good to go.” Street sighed. At this point, he just wanted to go home and sleep. And he couldn’t even do that because of his stupid concussion!

 “Street? Street!”

 Street lazily opened his eyes—when did he close them? —and peered up at his worried team and concerned EMT. “Huh?”

 “What’s wrong? Is he okay? Is he having difficulty hearing?” The question fires off one by one, but Street was too tried to follow who asked them at all.

 “He’s probably exhausted. The asthma attack early must have taken a lot out of him. He only has a mild concussion, so he can sleep as long as someone wakes him up every couple of hours to make sure there’s no memory loss.” The EMT announced, soothing the team’s worries.

 “So, does he need to go to the hospital?” Deacon asked.

 "No, it’s not necessary. We’d like to monitor his breathing overnight just to make sure, but if someone can do that in a place that is more comfortable then there’s no need.”

 “I’m going to visit my friend tonight, but I could stay— “ Luca started.

 “He can stay with me,” Deacon spoke up, surprising the others. “I’m sure between Annie and I, we’ll keep him from sustaining memory loss. I’m sure the kids would love to see you as well.” He grinned, patting Street’s leg before helping the other off the ground.

 “Are you sure it’s no trouble?” Street asked, not wanting to be a problem for the older man.

 Deacon brushed off his concerns, “Of course not. We’d love the company. Plus, Annie is making spaghetti tonight, you’re favorite.”

 “Yes!” Street cheered, being careful not to move his head too much. The others groaned because they knew how good Annie’s spaghetti was. Maybe this day wasn’t all it cracked up to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a kudos or comment on your way out! (:


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